Neville L and the Tradition of the Last Dance
by Dicere
Summary: Neville leaves his hat at the Yule Ball, and discovers the Hogwarts tradition of the last dance when he goes back to recover it.


Dedication: For CEA, my fellow torturer of Minerva and Albus.  I think it's time we gave our favorite witch and wizard a small break, don't you? (big, evil grin)

This is a 'missing scene' fic from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, after Chapter Twenty Three, "The Yule Ball".

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Neville shifted in his warm bed in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory, smiling slightly.  It had been a great night, he decided.  Ginny was a really nice girl; she'd just laughed when he'd trodden on her toes the one time they'd tried to dance.  There weren't that many girls who'd be so forgiving, he knew.  And she'd looked so pretty, and had even seemed to enjoy being with him, even though his robes weren't as nice as Draco Malfoy's, and his hat was –

Oh, no!  His hat!  He'd left it at the table!  His Gran would kill him if anything happened to it!

But his bed was so comfortable… And he'd already undressed.  He snuggled deeper under the covers.  The hat would be there in the morning, wouldn't it?

But what if it wasn't?  His Gran would go spare…

He groaned into the pillow, and quietly, trying not to disturb the peaceful snoring of the other boys, got out of bed and grabbed his dressing gown and slippers.  Pulling them on as he came down the stairwell he tripped and tumbled the last few steps into the common room.  He flushed with embarrassment, but luckily the few couples remaining in the room were too interested in what they were engaged in to notice him as he picked himself up and headed out the portrait hole.

The Fat Lady wagged her finger at him drunkenly.  "You aren't supposed to be out of the dormitories this late, you know.  Ball's over."  At least, that was what she tried to say.  The large number of liqueur chocolate boxes that were still littering her portrait had made her voice slur quite a lot.

"I forgot my hat," he whispered.

"'Forgot my hat'," she trilled loudly, and he looked around in panic.  "Forgot my hat, how 'bout that…" and she trailed off in a fit of giggles.

Giving up on his explanation, Neville ran down to the Great Hall.  

The Yule Ball was indeed over, but the hall was still brightly lit.  On the stage, the Weird Sisters were pointing their wands at their instruments, shrinking them down to pocket size.  Professor Dumbledore was deep in conversation with the lead singer, handing over a small bag; Neville could hear the clink of the Galleons it contained.

He hid in a shadowed corner.  He hadn't thought he'd ever get a chance to see the Weird Sisters up close – Gran didn't approve of concerts, nor of the Weird Sisters.  She always said they didn't make music, they just made a racket, and wouldn't let him play their songs when he went home for the holidays.  He watched avidly, and decided the lead singer was even prettier in person than she was in the posters.

Finally The Weird Sisters left the Hall, waving goodbye to Dumbledore as they did, and Neville tensed, preparing to sneak over to the table he had been sitting at.

Then he heard footsteps close by.  He glanced, and froze.  Professor McGonagall!

He huddled back into his dark corner as far as he could go, and tried to think invisible thoughts.  He was going to lose House points for sure.  Why was it always him?  Didn't he suffer enough in Potions?

But for once he had luck on his side.  She swept right on by him, her eyes fixed on Professor Dumbledore.  He felt his heart give a great lurch of relief and tried to remember how to breathe.

"Well, that's done," she was saying.  "Fourteen couples, Albus!  It looked like a Roman orgy!"

He dared to peek out.  Oh, no.  She was sitting down!  How was he ever going to get his hat?

Professor Dumbledore chuckled.  "The Astronomy Tower has always been a popular rendezvous, I believe."

She shook her head.  "Not as popular as the gardens, if the state of the rose bushes are anything to go by.  Severus is going to have to do a great deal of explaining to Professor Sprout in the morning."  She spoiled the acerbic remark with a yawn.

"Tired, Minerva?"  Neville wondered why Dumbledore was smiling so broadly as he moved towards her.  Of course, the thought of the fearsome Potions Professor getting yelled at by Professor Sprout, Neville's favorite teacher, was pretty good.  Did Dumbledore feel the same way about Snape as Neville did?

"Somewhat," she admitted.  She was smiling as widely as Dumbledore, Neville noticed.  Snape must really be hated by a lot of people.

"What a pity," Dumbledore mused.  "I had hoped to ask you for the last dance."

She blinked.  "In case it has escaped your attention, Albus, the ball is over."

"A ball is never over until the last dance, Minerva.  There are some very strict Hogwarts traditions governing the last dance, you know."

She looked up at him over her square spectacles.  "And what precisely would they be, please?"

The wide smile had left Dumbledore's face, and now only a ghost of it remained on his lips.  But his eyes were twinkling.  "The Headmaster and Deputy must always have the last dance of any ball held at Hogwarts.  Otherwise the ball never really ends."

Neville thought about that furiously.  Did that mean tomorrow they'd have another ball?  Would Ginny go with him again?

"How remarkable," Professor McGonagall said dryly.  "I don't remember ever seeing you and Headmaster Dippet closing any balls in such a fashion."

"We danced privately.  We could never work out who was to lead.  The result was always terrible."  The twinkle was even brighter.

McGonagall snorted.  "I wish I had seen it."

So did Neville.  He'd only ever seen pictures of Headmaster Dippet, but he and Dumbledore dancing together would have been pretty funny.

"So you see, Minerva, the tradition must be upheld.  Would you, for the sake of Hogwarts, bring yourself to dance the last dance with me?"

She shook her head at him, but took his outstretched hand and stood nonetheless.  "A dance with no music.  If nothing else, it should prove a new experience." She took off her hat with the thistles around it and placed it on the table.

"Oh," said Dumbledore.  "I don't know if we need deprive ourselves to that extent."  He waved his hand.

Suddenly Neville's corner was much darker than before as half the candles that still lit the Great Hall snuffed out.  Enough remained alight for him to see the two Professors standing close together at the edge of the dance floor.  McGonagall's red tartan robes looked a lot better in this light.  A slow, almost languid tune began to play out of the air, first the soft sound of drums, then strains of violins and flutes melding in a soft Latin tempo.

As he watched them move closer, it occurred to him that now would be a perfect time for him to get his hat unnoticed.  He moved out of the alcove – and froze again.

The two could dance.  Really dance.  Really well.

A smoky voice – a woman's – began to fill the hall, singing a song Neville had never heard, while he stood completely exposed to the two oblivious sorcerers on the dance floor.

_Dancing in the dark 'til the tune ends  
We're dancing in the dark and it soon ends  
We're waltzing in the wonder of why we're here  
Time hurries by, we're here… and we're gone_

Their feet were almost flickering to keep up with the beat, but they moved along the empty ballroom with the grace of swans, dipping and swirling in perfect time to the music.  McGonagall's robes flared outwards as they circled the floor, and she was looking up at Dumbledore, smiling.  He was smiling down at her too as he held her close.

It wasn't waltzing they were doing.  Neville had been taught how to waltz, even if he still couldn't do it properly.  Their dance was something much more complicated; and they were moving through it as if they had been born doing it, not even having to glance at their feet as they glided perfectly in step with each other.  
  
_Looking for the light of a new love  
To brighten up the night, I have you love  
And we can face the music together  
Dancing in the dark_

The woman stopped singing for a moment, but the music continued, a piano, and soft violins, and…  Neville watched, enchanted, as their feet slowly began to leave the floor until the two were a foot above the dance floor, still dancing… on air.

"You always want to show off, Albus Dumbledore."  But there was a low warm laughter that ran through McGonagall's words that didn't match the words.  Neville blinked.  He'd never thought his stern Transfiguration professor could sound like that.

Dumbledore's voice was amused too, but that wasn't so strange.  "My feet always feel so light when I dance with you, Minerva McGonagall.  I'm afraid the rest of my body just wants to follow suit."  He lifted his hands, and she spun away into the air as the violins soared, then returned to him.  Both laughed softly.

Neville shook himself and dived under the nearest table before he could be spotted.  The woman's voice came back again.

_What - though love is old  
What - though song is old  
Through them we can be young_

He knew he was going to be caught.  He knew he was going to get in so much trouble…  But he couldn't resist sticking his head out from under the table to continue watching.

  
_Hear this heart of mine  
Wailin' all the time  
Dear one, tell me that we're one_

They moved like they were part of the music.  

  
_Looking for the light of a new love  
To brighten up the night, I have you love  
And we can face the music together  
Dancing in the dark, dancing in the dark  
  
_

The woman's voice was starting to disappear, and Neville wished that it wouldn't.  He didn't want it to end.  Ever.  It was perfect.

_Dancing in the dark…_

Her voice trailed away, but the music continued.  Their feet began to touch the floor again, but they did not stop moving.  Almost languidly McGonagall spun away, then came back, her back resting against Dumbledore's chest, her hand still held up in his.  His other hand rested gently upon her hip, and her free hand came to rest lightly upon it.  And still they moved with each other into the music, bodies swaying gracefully, feet dancing in complex patterns that seemed to come to them without effort.

As the last of the music began to fade, the hand on McGonagall's hip seemed to tighten, drawing her closer.  She turned her head, smiling, to look up at Dumbledore, as his head came down, and they…

Oh.  Merlin.  Neville's eyes were as big as saucers.

It wasn't like the kiss Ginny had given him, that was for sure.  This was no friendly good-night peck on the cheek.  This was… more along the lines of what had been going on in the Gryffindor common room.  Just more restrained.  Only their lips were meeting.  A lot.  But at least they weren't groping each other.

With that last thought, Neville ducked straight back under the table and buried his head in both hands.  McGonagall and Dumbledore making out, and he was watching them.  Forget house points.  He was going to be _expelled_.  And he would never be able to sleep again.  Ever.  Even if they didn't catch him.  He shuddered silently.

After what seemed like a very long time, he heard McGonagall's voice.  "Well, Headmaster, have we satisfied the Hogwarts tradition of the last dance?"

She sounded a little breathless.  Neville clamped his brain down when it tried to suggest why.

"I believe we have, Deputy-Headmistress."  Dumbledore sounded breathless, too.  Neville tried very hard not to think at all.

"Then I shall bid you a good night, Professor Dumbledore."

"Good-night, Professor McGonagall?"  Dumbledore sounded puzzled.

"Oh, yes."  Was that a… a _purr_ in Professor McGonagall's voice?  All right, he knew her Animagus form was a cat, but still…  "A _very_ good night, Albus Dumbledore."

A pause.

"I feel I will soon agree with you on that, Minerva McGonagall."  They laughed again, low and soft, and the sound of their footsteps began to move away.  A few seconds afterwards the remaining candles flickered out, and the Great Hall was plunged into darkness.

Neville scrambled out from under the table and groped around blindly in the dark until he found his hat.  Jamming it safely on his head he began to sneak back to the Gryffindor tower.  He decided that he was not going to say a word to anyone about what he had witnessed.  It was bad enough being known as the clumsiest boy in the school, and being Professor Snape's personal punching bag.  He was not going to add to that the notoriety of having seen Dumbledore and McGonagall… going at it.

But he was going to learn how to dance.


End file.
